


Wraith

by staticbees



Category: Marble Hornets
Genre: Brian Lives, Ghost Brian, Ghosts, M/M, Not really., but i'm gonna say it anyway., listen it'll make sense, probably, this doesn't have an origin fic yet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 22:29:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15917553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staticbees/pseuds/staticbees
Summary: Snippets from a universe where Brian comes back as a ghost.





	1. Chapter 1

Tim fixes his eyes on the road, and tries to ignore the ghost sitting in the passenger seat. He's leaning back, nearly merging into the fabric of the seat, and watching Tim as he drives, brows furrowed, expression unreadable.

 

“What? What is it?” Tim finally demands, tired of the scrutiny.

 

Brian hums. “You need to rest. You’ve been driving all day.”

 

“And let you take over?” Tim scoffs. The sun blazes hot on the back of his neck, and his head pounds, pressure behind his temples. He feels miserable, clothes clinging to his skin, hands shaky, legs aching from lack of movement, but he has to keep driving, has to get as far away from Alabama as possible.

 

“You look like you’re going to pass out,” Brian informs him.

 

Tim laughs humorlessly. “What are you, the Healthy Living Police?”

 

“Tim,” Brian presses.

 

Tim lets out a huff of frustration. “Fine, I’ll take a break, if it makes you shut up for a minute.”

 

Brian seems relieved. “Thank you.”

 

Tim turns into a grocery store parking lot and turns off the engine. He takes a swig of water and washes it down with a couple of pills. On top of his usual, he’s been taking asprin to help with his migraines. It doesn’t react badly with his regular meds, and it lessens the pain enough for him to go through day to day.

 

“You should try eating,” Brian recommends, only half joking. “I’ve heard a lot of people do it to stay alive. _Super_ popular these days.”

 

He rolls his eyes, and decides not to deign the ghost with an answer. He steps out of his car and pulls out his old lighter, paint chipped and faded with age, lighting a cigarette with trembling hands. Taking a drag of the cigarette, he slouches against the side of his car to watch shoppers pass by, pushing strollers or hauling plastic bags filled with groceries to their cars.

 

None of them seem to notice him, except for one, who catches his eyes and begins to head directly for him. Tim’s heart sinks. He didn’t count on being recognized here. At the last moment, though, someone calls their name, and they stop and turn around, heading back the way they came. Tim breathes out a sigh of relief.

 

“You know you’re going to have to confront them eventually,” Brian reminds him. “You can’t keep avoiding your past.”

 

He flares up, hostile. “I don’t–” His mind suddenly flickers to Jessica, and he deflates. “Yeah,” he says. “I know.”

 

He lightly taps the ashes of his cigarette onto the ground, and tosses it into a garbage can. He slides back into the driver’s seat and takes one last look around before starting the engine and backing out of the lot.  


	2. Chapter 2

“Do you blame me?” Tim asks one night, into the humming silence of the motel room. “For what happened to you?”

 

Brian is leaning against the wall, jeans scuffed, hands tucked in his jacket pockets. He’s blurry at the edges, like smudged pen ink, shifting and indistinct, but Tim can still make out his features. He looks just like he did before Marble Hornets ended, with all crooked nose and messy brown hair, a hint of stubble on his chin, but Tim notices slight bags beneath his eyes, and the way he stands, head resting against the wall, as if he hasn’t slept in a week. 

 

“It wasn’t your fault,” the ghost says softly. “You did what you had to do. We all did.” 

 

Tim exhales shakily. “But I didn’t– I should’ve–” He scrubs his face with his hands. “Maybe Alex was right,” he says quietly. “Maybe none of this would’ve happened if it hadn’t been for me.”

 

“You know that’s not true,” Brian says. “You’re not the one who put the gun in Alex’s hand. You’re not the one who told him he had to kill his friends. He did that all on his own.”

 

“I know,” Tim says, frustration spilling into his voice. “But if we had never met—if I hadn’t gotten you dragged you into this nightmare—you’d still be  _ alive _ right now.” 

 

“Maybe,” Brian replies easily. “But I wouldn’t have you.”


End file.
